A Better Day
by TheLateNightStoryteller
Summary: Set after 2x01. Simmons lays awake, thinking of her friends and of Fitz and of a better day, a long time ago, with a three legged race, a rainstorm and a flower.


Simmons lay awake, sore and weary and missing what she could only describe as... home.

She missed Skye, getting into to trouble, making her laugh, sometimes even pushing her outside her comfort zone, but always for the best, always because she wanted to do the right thing.

She missed May, silent, strong, always there protecting them, a guardian angel.

She missed Coulson, guiding them, keeping them together, sometimes pushing her, expecting a little more than she thought she could give. It had always made her do better though. She even missed Lola.

She missed Triplett and his easy smile, though she hadn't had it for that long.

She tried her best not to think about Ward.

And Fitz...

There hadn't been a singled day that she hadn't thought about him, missed him, wondered if he was alright, if he would ever understand, ever forgive her. There was an empty space where he should have been, a hole inside of her left hollow because what had been growing inside of it, blooming into beautiful flowers, since she was sixteen, had suddenly been ripped out.

Maybe it was because of the meadow they'd passed, driving back, serene and filled with tulips, that she was thinking of flowers, white ones, from another time, a better day.

/-/-/

"I can't believe there's an entire festival just for flowers," Fitz commented critically. "I mean, you don't see them having a festival for grass or edible herbs, what's so special about flowers?"

"Well," Simmons began, knowing exactly what was special about flowers. "For one, they have an incredible relationship with insects."

"Horay," he cheered sarcastically and she cast him a reproachful glance.

"Insects are amazing," she pressed. "Some display screens are based off the prism-like cyrstaline structure of the wings of certain butterfly species-"

"And a near-perfect rubber has been made by studying the proteins in the knees of fleas," Fitz continued, unconvinced. "So then why are flowers the ones getting a festival?"

Simmons shrugged. "Because they're pretty."

"Butterflies are pretty," Fitz pointed out.

"Well then why don't you organize a butterfly festival?" She teased.

"That sounds like a lot of effort," he grinned. "I don't really like butterflies enough to work so hard."

She rolled her eyes at him but couldn't help smiling. It was a beautiful day, spring sunshine beaming down between the clouds on a green, sprouting world. It had rained recently and everything smelled refreshingly of soil and grass.

The festival was alive with laughter and games, coloured with dazzling displays of flowers. Simmons spotted a three legged race starting up in a nearby field and dragged Fitz over to it, hopeful there was still space left.

He complied, grumbling slightly about unnecessary running.

/-/-/

"This isn't even flower related," he complained as their feet were tied together.

"The prize is a bouquet of tulips," Simmons told him. "Thank you," she added to the volunteer who smiled warmly at her.

"Ah, yes, that makes it completely relevant," his sarcasm was as clear as still water.

"I am not losing because you can't accept an extraneous event," Simmons scolded.

"Why do you want the flowers so badly?" He wondered. "There's tulips everywhere, we could just come back later with some shears and-"

"Fitz!" She gasped, looking around to see if anyone had heard.

"-trim a few," he finished. "Ah, C'mon Simmons, no one would miss them."

"Yes they would!" She whispered, "Shhh, don't say things like that so loudly."

"Do you think they're listening?" He wondered, finally concerned, looking over his shoulder as if expecting the flower police to be there to arrest him.

"I don't want the flowers I...," it seemed silly, now that she was saying it out loud. "I want to win because I've never finished a three legged race before," she admitted, whispering again. "But I think- with you- maybe I could-"

"Maybe we could win together," he guessed, smiling.

"Or at least give them a good run," she smiled back.

He held out his hand and she clapped her own against it, grateful for his support. "Let's do this then," he declared, suddenly determined.

They rose together and hobbled to the starting line. Simmons placed an arm below his shoulder blades and held onto his elbow with her other hand, steadying them.

"Wha- what are you doing?" he asked nervously, ears red.

"We'll balance better this way," she explained, hoping she hadn't made him uncomfortable. He could be a little skittish about personal space sometimes.

"Oh... well... right," he fumbled and she realized she had. "Should I... um.. do you want me to do the same?"

"If you'd like," she invited.

"Well... I mean... It just makes sense right? It's strategic," he reasoned.

'Trust Fitz to make thing awkward,' Simmons mused, as he put his arm around her shoulders. It was nice, she reflected, it felt good having someone holding onto her, someone she cared about.

The race began and they rushed forward, making good speed and keeping up with the front of the racers, hopping with them like a herd of mutant ostriches.

They were almost at the finish when they tripped, tumbling forward and skidding along the wet grass, mashing dirt and green into their clothes. Fitz would later insist that the team on his side had rushed them, purposely startling him, and Simmons would argue that they had both tripped on the uneven ground but whatever actually happened it lost them the race. The pair came in fifth out of seven, victorious only over a mother and her four year old and a pair of preteens who'd attempted to film the race with their phone while participating in it.

At least they'd finished though. Simmons tried to look on the bright side, see it as an accomplishment, but she couldn't help feeling disappointed.

/-/-/

"We could have won, had we been racing on a flat surface," Simmons pointed out as Fitz licked his fingers clean of the fudge he'd just inhaled, apparently no long concerned about the race.

"Yeah, probably," he agreed. "But then what would we have done with all those flowers?"

"Put them in a vase," she answered easily. "It would have been nice to have something to remember the festival by, I had a really good time."

He smiled at her, almost shy, his eyes shining. "Yeah, yeah me too."

Dark clouds had gathered overhead and a drop splashed onto her nose, and then another landed on her cheek before the sky let go and rain crashed down in great, drenching droplets.

They let out a squeak and ran back to the car, hastily unlocking it and then rushing inside.

Neither of them were too wet but she frowned at Fitz as he shook his head, scattering water into the air that landed on the side of the window and the back of the seat.

"It's really raining out there isn't it," he commented, oblivious to her disapproval, staring out the window instead.

"The festival must have emptied out," she guessed.

"Yeah..." he agreed, and the way he said it she knew he was thinking something over. "Wait here," he instructed, opening the door.

"What are you doing?" She exclaimed, but he was gone before she'd finished.

He was going to get himself soaked and then drip all over the car. Where in the world was he going that was so important?

He returned after a minute, holding something.

"Start the car!" he urged, eyes wide. "I think someone saw me."

"What?" She asked, confused before she recognized what he was holding. It was a tulip, white as fresh snow at the end of a bright, happy green stem.

She started the engine, not wanting her friend caught by whoever had spotted him, and they drove away.

"I got you a tulip," he said needlessly once they'd put some distance between themselves and the festival.

Simmons glanced at him briefly and she couldn't help the grin that spread across her face. He was soaked, dripping all over, as she'd predicted, but he held the flower out for her to see, offering it to her and looking as if he'd opened the door to his heart.

"It's gorgeous," she told him and he smiled.

"You don't think they have cameras, do you?" He wondered after a minute, concerned.

Surely he didn't really think anyone was going to go through hours of footage to catch a tulip thief.

She shook her head. "I think we'll be OK."

/-/-/

Would Fitz remember that day too? Simmons thought he probably would, his memory was mostly in tact... but so many other things weren't.

Did he think about the flower, the way she was right then, when he was sad or lonely? Did he miss her or was he too angry at her for that? Did he even know enough to be angry? She hoped he'd understand, eventually, that this had been for the best, that it had been the only way forward. However much it hurt.

She rolled over, unable to sleep as exhausted as she was. Most days she could shake it off, go on with what she needed to do, but that feild of flowers, white tulips, had stuck itself inside her head like a web woven by a spider and she wanted to go home.

'You can't though,' she told herself. 'You know why you're here, why you need to stay.'

She did, but it didn't make sleep any easier. Restless, she sat up and switched on the lamp. Then she opened her drawer and found a pen and a piece of scrap paper.

On the paper, as neatly as she could, she sketched a tulip, white outlined in black. The stem wasn't green, she didn't have green, but it was pretty and once she'd propped it up on her bedside table, folding the paper so that it stood and the tulip faced her, she found she could finally drift off into a half-easy slumber.

/-/-/

* * *

><p>There is a reference to Fringe (a science fiction series) in this story and it is the white tulip. In the show it is a symbol of forgiveness and the field of tulips is tied to the line by Elizabeth Bishop "Sometimes the world we have isn't the world we want, but we have our hearts and our imaginations to make the best of it."<p>

I have no idea why Simmons left (obviously) but I do feel like _Fitz_ is going to be upset about it, whatever the reason, (because the guy's only human) and is going to need to have himself forgiver her.


End file.
